


Tea

by peacehopeandrats



Series: Monthly Rumbelling 2021 [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling January 2021 (Once Upon A Time), F/M, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Rumplestiltskin is busily at work when his tea arrives. Will he be able to finish his task or will Belle prove to be more than his divided attention can handle?A short ficlet based off of January's Monthly Rumbelling moodboard.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Monthly Rumbelling 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088708
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by the Monthly Rumbelling for January 2021, an image of a bowl of herbs. You can find it [here](https://a-monthly-rumbelling.tumblr.com/post/639113404836085761/prompts-for-january). This month I also prompted myself with the theme of light.
> 
> This is one fic in a series dedicated only to Monthly Rumbelling stories from all over the franchise. Eventually the purpose of this collection will all make sense, but for now, please enjoy the random storytelling.

In amongst the scrapes and scratches of the mortar and pestle beneath his hands, Rumplestiltskin heard the creak of his workshop’s door. He forced his eyes to remain focused on the way his fingers wrapped around the stone items they grasped, scales and dark nails rotating in exact, even motions. There was no room for error when one was halfway through the creation of a potion. One small slip of a finger, one casual glance to the side, and his work could be ruined, the ingredients wasted. At the moment he was working with common herbs, but if he made a habit of catering to every distraction brought about by his maid he might one day lose more than a few leaves and petals.

Every day that passed it seemed he needed that reminder more. It had been easier in the beginning, when Belle’s constant questions and unfamiliarity with housework had been an annoyance, but as she settled into her place Rumple had settled along with her. After a time he came to realize his muscles weren’t clenching with anticipated frustration whenever she entered a room and, at some point beyond that, began to feel the slight hitch in his chest that anticipated her arrival. Now he was resorting to a constant repetition of the mantra that focus was key.

He’d been infatuated with others before, Cora, most recently, and had been burned by love whenever he’d been given an opportunity to reach out for it. There would be no making that mistake again. Baelfire needed him and to find Bae, Rumple needed his power, needed his focus.

With no warning, a silence born by realization consumed him. Hands poised in their task, frozen in time, Rumplestiltskin replayed the last thoughts in his mind. Love? Certainly he hadn’t just brought such a concept to mind while thinking about his maid. She was useful and that should have been the end of it. Unless, of course, she was only hovering in doorways instead of going about her tasks.

“Either in or out, Dearie,” Rumplestiltskin called out as he forced his wrist back to its circular rotation. The pause had been good for something at least. In the quiet it was much easier to notice that there hadn’t been footsteps after the woman’s initial intrusion. “I already have a door, in case you hadn’t noticed, and it does a much better job of shutting me away from unwanted company.”

“Sorry. I, um. I brought your tea.” The delicate items rattled slightly as Belle lifted the tray that carried them, yet Rumple refused to look her way. He knew what he would see. Her head would be tipped to the side and tilted slightly downward in a gesture of bashful politeness that was entirely false, the blue of her eyes would be sparkling in the afternoon sun that streamed in from the window at his back, and she was most certainly tucking her lip between her teeth as a way of attempting to display a sheepish reluctance that had never truly been a part of her to begin with.

Rumplestiltskin waited a moment, testing her to see what she might do. At least that was what he told himself. Couldn’t let the woman get away with every intrusion. It would only encourage her to barge in at every opportunity she could get and then where would he be? Standing at his work while she read by the fire, no doubt, perhaps even listening to her exotic tones as she spoke the words aloud. No, no, that wouldn’t do. Concentration was the key to magic. Such futures simply had to be stopped.

Dropping the pestle with a clatter, the Dark One finally lifted his head to stare at his maid. “Well the tea won’t simply pour itself across the room and into my gullet,” he huffed before waving a hand over his work table. “If you expect it in my mouth, _I_ expect it within reach.”

“Yes,” Belle stammered as she moved forward.” Of course. I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“ _Just_ a busy day with things to do.” He jabbed a finger at an available space. “Leave it.”

Balancing one side of the tray on the edge of the crowded wooden surface and the other on her lowered hip, Belle easily transferred the chipped cup to the spot indicated and reached for the pot. Somehow, though he’d made certain to offer her the most difficult of serving conditions, she poured a stream of steaming hot fluid into the white center of the dishware, turning it a pure golden brown. Bathed in sunlight from the window, the tea rippled and danced as if laughing over the maid’s ability to pass his ridiculous tests, then slowly stilled, tired of its own merriment. In a breath it had become a mirror, reflecting not only the look of Belle’s concentration in its tiny pool, but his own rapt amazement as well.

Tearing his eyes from the liquid to glare down at the shadows created by the cup’s chipped form, Rumplestiltskin cursed himself for allowing the distraction. There could be no other visits to his work space if this was going to be the outcome. Concentration was key, he reminded himself, yet Belle was a gravitational force that simply couldn’t be reckoned with and soon the fluid perfection of her movements held him captive once more, trapped within the field of view just at the corner of his vision.

Delicate fingers worked with precision as she prepared his refreshment, every aspect of the task an exquisite dance. Sugar and milk were added and stirred, muddying the liquid and erasing her reflection, yet not one drop was spilled. Belle was silent in her work, the only sounds coming from the tinkle of lids that were set back to rest in their original positions. Once the task was complete she lifted the cumbersome receptacle that she had so carefully protected from the pull of the earth and turned to face her captor, the look of concentration fading into a polite smile. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” the Dark One snapped, voice sharper than any knife. She had done quite enough to his nerves for one day. He flapped his hand in her direction wanting to shoo her off, yet something still nagged at him, an anomaly in the new order of things that tugged at his mind and refused to let go, even as Belle turned away, retracing her path to the door.

Rumplestiltskin hissed at his own infuriating curiosity. It was all _her_ fault that these subtle differences in their lives had become something worth mentioning and now, because of that, he was being forced into conversation. “Forget something?”

Pausing in the space between his work table and the door, Belle glanced down at the tray in her hands. She kept her back to him, but Rumple could see her head moving one way and then another as if she were giving a thorough examination to the contents it held. The little act wouldn’t have fooled anyone and certainly wasn’t pulling the wool over her captor’s eyes, but she turned to him, faining innocence, regardless. “I don’t believe so.”

Wriggling a finger at the offending object in the set, Rumple wrinkled his nose in mock distaste. “There’s another cup.” His voice dripped with disdain and Belle’s expression fell immediately.

“Well, I thought that perhaps-”

“You _thought_!” Rumple’s words shot out into the room like a bolt of lightning, striking at anything in its path. Belle flinched, but refused to back down as he abandoned the table and strode toward her. His eyes were narrowed slits by the time he reached her, finger pointing accusingly at the remaining cup. “Perhaps what you _thought_ was to replace my cup for another. Perhaps you _thought_ I wouldn’t notice. Are you _testing_ me, Dearie? Trying to see what I might notice before you try to _escape?_ ”

Belle’s shoulders squared against his onslaught, her eyes turning to blue ice. “I _thought_ I might have some myself,” she huffed before her gaze met his and the combination of fire and ice sent the room blasting away from the epicenter, leaving only the two of them standing in a world of their own making. Eyes locked on each other, her frosty gaze melted just as Rumplestiltskin felt his angry heat simmer and the reaction trapped him in a tiny sliver of time for eternity, a sliver of time where her beauty was everything.

She was the one who managed to break the spell by turning to study the work space he’d abandoned. “I didn’t realize you were so busy.” Practically whispering now, Belle dropped her head in a respectful nod and moved to the exit.

Acting with a mind of its own, Rumple’s hand shot out and whisked the empty teacup off of the tray before Belle had taken more than half a step. While she blinked at him in wonderment, he stared at the porcelain object, studying it with disbelief, trying to ascertain why its perfection seemed to be such an affront to his sensibilities. The chipped cup was the problem, flawed and imperfect, it was a representation of a different time when things were clumsy and scratched at the surface. An object that was whole should be a balm, something to smooth the wounds, yet here was this thing, grating on him with more ferocity than the claws of a terrified cat. That simply wouldn’t do.

“Yet you knew what I do in here.” Rumplestiltskin pinched the dainty handle between his two fingers and held the thing at arm’s length, the way someone might carry something filthy that offended the senses. His eyes scanned the table, taking an instant inventory of its contents before a flick of his wrist cleared the unnecessary items away, making a space large enough for Belle to discharge her burden onto. He sneered as the plopped the cup onto the surface, nose wrinkling as he returned to his work. “Well, the deed’s begun, might as well complete it.”

For several breaths Belle was silent in her uncertainty and the Dark One found that he wasn’t at all sure of what he wanted her to say. The quiet hovered between them like the tray she still held until he waved at the cleared table with frustration. “Well? What are you waiting for? The tea to become chilled?”

Rumplestiltskin refused to notice the smile that pulled at her lips as she returned to his work space, he never caught sight of the twinkle in her eyes as she made her own cup of tea, and he most certainly paid no attention to the fact that she took less sugar than he liked in his own or that she added only enough milk to deny the amber liquid its transparency. The tea would still hold that tiny bite of an aftertaste, he realized as he most certainly did not study the way her fingers cradled the cup, lifted it, and brought it to her lips. He could almost taste the beverage as she took her first swallow.

“Thank you,” Belle whispered, snapping his mind back to the reality of her existing beside him as a whole entity.

He waved her off with a flap of his hand and forced himself to return to work. There was another, dainty sip taken at his side before the sound of Belle’s footsteps carried the scent of the tea away from him.

Nothing on the table made sense any more, not the herbs or the collection of bottles, nor the parchments scattered about on the worn wood in front of him. They were all items from a time too far distant to remember. Rumplestiltskin tried to pick up the pestle, but it felt odd in his hand, his fingers fumbling to keep hold of it. There was nothing to do now but start over and if he was going to begin again, he might as well allow himself a break while his tea was still sending off trails of steam to dance in the sun that entrapped it.

Gently he lifted the chipped cup to his lips and tasted his own version of the beverage they now shared. Even though he had seen it made to match his tongue’s very specific delights, the flavor seemed off somehow, bland and empty. The Dark One turned to his maid, now bathed in the yellow glow that pressed in to the room from the window. He wanted to speak, needed to point out this flaw that had his senses all in a fluster about him, but all he could see was her warm heart and the kindness that radiated from it, and suddenly she felt too far away.

Belle took another sip of her tea and he mimicked her, the warm liquid finally delivering flavor to his mouth as he swallowed it down. The idea struck him that the tea they shared was some kind of magical kiss, playing over both of their tongues and warming them both with the contact. 

_I could have kissed her,_ Rumplestiltskin finally admitted to himself. _Why didn’t I kiss her?_


End file.
